


The Star of Westminster Abbey

by Sethlock



Series: Sethlock's JoJo Crossovers [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Crossover, Gen, Humiliation, John is the only adult out of the three boys, Joseph Joestar Being a Little Shit, Lisa Lisa needs a break, Not the sex thing though Joseph is just the perfect person to knock him down a couple hundred pegs, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sick Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sethlock/pseuds/Sethlock
Summary: Sherlock and John get a case involving... a zombie? And then they lose the case just as fast. And Sherlock loses any last vestiges of his sanity.It's a rough night for anyone not named Joseph Joestar, but at least it's over quickly. No thanks to Sherlock.A.K.A. Sherlock Holmes can catch a cold, but he can't catch Joseph Joestar.
Relationships: Elizabeth Joestar | Lisa Lisa & Joseph Joestar, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: Sethlock's JoJo Crossovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161575
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	The Star of Westminster Abbey

**Author's Note:**

> I bully Sherlock because Joseph is the superior mentalist, and you can fight me on that.

For once, they’re leaving the apartment preemptively. Sherlock had gotten some sort of secret message from his friends in the London underground (John wasn’t sure whether said ‘underground’ referred to the ‘crime’ variety or the ‘metro’ variety, but he also wasn’t sure there was too much of a difference when it came to Sherlock), so now they were going to an underground fighting ring, to find…

“A zombie?”

Sherlock scoffs, and launches himself into an explanation on how modern media has butchered the portrayal of zombies, vampires, and the undead in general as he leads John through the catacombs that are apparently hidden underneath the third-largest cathedral in London.

“—and don’t even get me started on the flaws in using ‘zombies’ as an antagonistic force in a novel. Could you honestly name a _single piece of media_ that only has zombies as an antagonist, and was actually _good_?” He scoffs again to hide his cough, because he thinks John doesn’t know that he’s got a cold and he doesn’t want John to think he’s weak, and opens a final door. John reflects on how his flatmate is always sure to be the most emotionally guarded man in the room at all times, and yet is extraordinarily bad at actually hiding his feelings, and then follows him inside.

Instantly, the pair is beset by the roar of a crowd as two colorfully-yet-scantily-clad figures circle each other on a platform at the center of the room. Some swinging of the fists occurs, and the audience cheers loudly enough to mask the entrance of their uninvited guests.

“Alright, John. We’re looking for someone who manages to fit the description of ‘Inhumanly fast, inhumanly strong, inhuman pain tolerance, inhuman healing, and—”

“A zombie. We’re looking for a zombie, Sherlock.”

“Well, ye~s,” Sherlock filibusters, “But she burns in sunlight.”

One of the boxers is thrown out of the ring, and two new ones step up to the stage.

“Burns—”

“Upon exposure to ultraviolet radiation, yes, John. You can’t honestly tell me that’s the strangest thing you’ve heard about.”

And John can’t really tell him he’s wrong, so they split up, circling the edge of the arena and looking for a zombie that burns in sunlight.

John is halfway through a conversation with a scarred person that looks eager to crack his skull like an egg, when his inefficient questioning method of asking about the identity of the strongest fighter is interrupted by the entrance of someone that triples the volume of the crowd. The spectators closest to John, whose hands have begun drifting towards their bulging waistbands, turn their attention to the stage.

The woman that steps onto the platform sets new records for managing to ‘wear clothes’, while also appearing completely naked to anyone with a pair of working eyes. Nothing there that John hasn’t seen before, but the old medic training still has him attempting to avert his eyes after an analytical once-over.

A man follows her up, clearly the underdog in this confrontation if the sounds the crowd is making are any indication—

It’s Sherlock.

Sherlock has gotten himself _involved, again_ , and is now going to be fighting a _naked woman_ in front of _two hundred spectators_.

John sighs, snatches a beer from the nearest audience member not currently conscious, and settles back to watch.

Two minutes of Sherlock-style posturing later, except he’s apparently _forgotten_ he has a cold, John is hurrying up to the stage to make good on his training, whether that be with the first-aid kit he’s got in his bag, or the loaded gun he’s got in his trousers.

He’s halfway through restraining Sherlock so he can start first-aid on the stupid man when the light from above is obstructed by a Presence. With a capital P.

John turns slowly, and is proud of himself for not instantly pulling his gun when the female fighter opens her mouth to reveal fangs.

“It’s-yo it’s-yo it’s-yo _JoJo_!” 

Someone springs over the edge of the platform, balancing on the ropes, and the crowd redoubles their screaming.

The woman standing over John turns, ignoring him for the moment in favor of staring down the newcomer.

“Who… are you?” she questions slowly. Her voice is deeper than John would have expected, and it almost sounds like she only recently learned English, except that she doesn’t have any accent whatsoever.

“ _I_ ,” the man crows, “Am none other than _Joseph Joestar_! And I,” he continues, bouncing on the rope like it’s a trampoline, “Am going to _turn you to dust_ , zombie woman!”

A woman’s voice cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter: “JoJo!”

‘Joseph Joestar’ lets out a quiet noise of surprise, and turns to where what appears to be a female moviestar is striding towards the ring.

“Quit fooling around and start fighting, or I’ll drag you back to Italy and make you do the pillar again!”

The young man goes pale, before laughing nervously, turning back to the female fighter still standing over John with a helpless shrug.

“Guess that’s our curtain call for now… However!”

(John is just surprised that the man has kept bouncing on the ropes throughout this entire exchange. Is he some kind of gymnast?)

“Joseph Joestar never leaves his fans hanging!”

The zombie steps forward. “I am no ‘fan’ of yours… Joseph Joestar.”

The man grins, and his next bounce doesn’t send him vertically, but rather _horizontally_ , bouncing across the ring, the ropes snapping behind him.

John hasn’t taken physics since his A-levels in high school, but he’s pretty sure conservation of energy necessitates that this man should not be bouncing as powerfully as he is.

Maybe it has something to do with the golden sparks hanging around the ropes.

“Well, if I can’t leave my fans hanging,” Joestar says, “And you’re no fan of mine,” he continues, ropes flying everywhere now like some sort of spaghetti monster has occupied the ring, “Then it seems we have two problems that _cancel each other out_!”

With his final words, he finally lands, spinning on his feet like a professional ballerina as the ropes wrap around the zombie, tightening until she’s yanked into the air.

The zombie’s body bulges, and then the rope tightens around her neck, and suddenly her body is falling to the stage as dust.

“Hamon noose!” Joestar announces to the crowd, who have been eating this unexpected show up like kids in a candy store. “Feel the hang!” He waves a bit more to the crowd, and then he vaults back off the stage, running through the large double doors at the end of the walkway with one final laugh. The crowd continues their cheers even after he’s gone, and John begins dragging Sherlock towards the exit. Knowing Sherlock, this situation is going to turn on the two of them in about thirty seconds, and the man himself isn’t even lucid enough to help out.

The woman who had apparently been accompanying Joestar steps up to the stage and begins helping John carry Sherlock, shooting a look over her tinted glasses when John makes a noise of discouragement. By the time they’re back in the maze of catacombs, Sherlock has regained himself enough that he is able to whine like a spoiled brat until they let him stand on his own.

“What…”

“A zombie, Mr. Holmes,” the woman cuts. “She would have killed the both of you had we not intervened.”

John thinks that’s being a bit dismissive of ‘Ol’ Reliable’, but the woman seems to catch his glance towards his trousers and snorts.

“If you had shot that woman, she would barely have flinched. Hamon and sunlight are the only ways to get rid of zombies, and there is no sunlight to be found in these catacombs.”

Sherlock starts mumbling about some old science project to do with U.V. lamps that occurred down here in the forties, which he knows because of course he does. The woman gives him a disparaging glance before turning back to John.

“Mr. Watson,” she says, “My name is Lisa Lisa, the brash idiot who killed the zombie was Joseph, and I think it would be best for everybody if the four of us forget this ever happened. Thank you for your help in leading us to the zombie, I see that Joseph was right to give you that information, but it would be safer for us not to meet again.”

“You…” Sherlock heaves out as Joestar comes bounding down the corridor, “Played me? Tricked me, I mean, you knew what I would do and you followed me.”

“Yes…” Lisa Lisa says, before turning back to John. “I apologize for the confusion, and I’m sure Joseph will apologize for the subterfuge.”

“Aw, Coach!” Joestar complains as he flounces up to the three of them, before grinning sheepishly. “Well, ok. I guess I am kinda sorry that I tricked you guys. I didn’t think that it would go so easily!”

“Joseph…” the woman says warningly.

“Well, I mean, uh, you guys are detectives, right? Like, solving crimes and beating the baddies before they can blow up the crown jewels, yeah?”

“ _Joseph_ ,” Lisa Lisa hisses, “Apologize properly, and let’s leave.”

“No, no,” Sherlock, who had been ignored up to this point, cuts in, “It’s true. John and I are _master detectives_ , and I can honestly say that if the likes of _you_ were able to trick me, then I deserved to be tricked.”

Joseph makes a noise of outrage, turning to Lisa Lisa for assistance. The woman gazes at John, who swallows and turns his gaze from her, first to Joseph, and then to Sherlock.

This is apparently a sign, because she nods decisively and Joseph steps forward.

“Alright, listen here, pal. I want to know what you meant by ‘the likes of me’, and I think it’s fair warning to tell you that if I don’t like what I hear, I’ll bloody your maw!”

Sherlock seems to have decided that Lisa Lisa is the most important person of the pair, because he ignores Joseph, staring the woman down and entering what John has dubbed the ‘Sherlockian pose’.

“Let’s see…” the man drawls, half irreverent and half discombobulated, both through sickness and from blood loss, “European, English, most likely, lived on the run for most of your life, Italy most recently. Lot’s of exercise, fighting, I expect. A lost martial art from deep Asia as well, how very _cultured_ of us. Used to living minimally, but you know your way around the upper echelons of society and the various goods that go along with that. You’re a mother, but try to hide it, mostly because you’re… I’d hazard a guess at twenty-three. The father is dead or missing, and you’re taking care of your son more out of obligation to your role as a mother than actual love you feel for him.”

“OH MY GOD! This guy is pretty smart, Lisa Lisa!” Joseph slaps both hands to his cheeks, a picture of shock, while Lisa Lisa stands frozen, her face pale and hands shaking. Then Joseph grins, leaning over to put an elbow on the woman’s shoulder to prop himself up. “Off by thirty years, of course, but who can blame him?”

These seem to be the words Lisa Lisa needs, because she shakes herself off and slaps the back of Joseph’s head, making the young man squawk in indignation.

“Don’t reveal my age to strangers, JoJo,” she orders, snatching a cigarette from inside her jacket and lighting up. “But… yes, it appears he is rather intelligent.”

“Not that that means anything to Joseph Joestar!” the young man exclaims, “Lisa Lisa, I’m going to show this rude guy what-for, and then we’ll leave! Your honor is safe with me!”

“Thirty years…” Sherlock murmurs, ignoring Joseph again to stare at Lisa Lisa’s youthful form.

“Hey!” Joestar exclaims, “You’d better pay attention to me! You might be intelligent, but _no-one_ shows up Joseph Joestar when it comes to smarts!”

“You?” Sherlock questions derisively, “Let’s see…”

One of Joseph’s hands suddenly comes up to point at his own temple with the index and middle finger, and the other points at Sherlock. “Your next line is—”

_“You’re going to try and hit me with those clackers you’ve got hidden by your back, aren’t you?”_

“—isn’t it?” Joseph finishes, grinning wildly as Sherlock stops cold.

For the first time since John has met the man, Sherlock Holmes actually looks dumbfounded. His mouth is slightly open, his eyes shift back and forth without actually seeing anything, and there’s a tremble to his frame that’s usually only there when he’s been doing drugs.

“And to answer your question, I was planning on using the secret Joestar technique to prove my superiority!”

“Joe- Joestar technique?” Sherlock stammers, “You- The Joestar technique is—”

“—you’re going to throw the clackers so that John and I are entangled, and then you’re going to take advantage of that by further entangling us with your scarf, which is clearly made for combat because of it’s obvious tensile strength which I can see even from here—”

“The secret Joestar technique is _running away_!” Joseph yells from deep within the catacombs. He and Lisa Lisa are long gone by now, having escaped while Sherlock was desperately trying to regain himself.

Sherlock collapses to the ground in a heap of trenchcoat, depression, and mucus.

And then he sneezes, and John can’t help taking a picture of that.

So, sure, they didn’t actually figure out what was up with that zombie, and Sherlock had to stay in bed for two weeks (he claimed it was the cold, but John knew it was because he’d been outsmarted), _and_ John didn’t get to publish a blog about the whole thing because… well, because they didn’t really _do_ anything, and Lisa Lisa had asked them not to, and it seemed rude to ignore her request when it cost him nothing to oblige her.

But he has what is probably the cutest picture of Sherlock in existence taped to the fridge (and doesn’t it say a lot that the Sherlock in the picture is dusty, bloody, and snotty) and he has a fond memory of the man who managed to read Sherlock Holmes like a textbook. The Star of Westminster Abbey left quite the impression on both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I look up Pro Wrestlers just to help me write that scene? Yes, yes I did. Joseph's taglines are modelled after DDP's, by the way. Just in case you were wondering.
> 
> I kinda don't like the way Sherlock is always mean in the show, but we're supposed to feel sorry for him, and I personally believe that Joseph Joestar is the _exact opposite_ of Sherlock Holmes while still being the smartest guy in the room.
> 
> Anyway. Uh. Kudos don't cost you anything. And they make me happy. So. Good Samaritan time.  
> Comments will be responded to. You have been warned.


End file.
